


From Then to Now

by foxdeer



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Little Legolas, M/M, Original Character(s), Parent Thranduil, Reunions, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Thranduil’s Wife, Young!Haldir, elfling!Legolas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-08 07:40:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13453575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxdeer/pseuds/foxdeer
Summary: On his first trip abroad from Lothlorien, Haldir encounters an elfling in need of his love and protection.At the end of the War of the Ring, with the final destruction of evil, Haldir can hide his feelings no more.





	1. Then

**Author's Note:**

> In advance, I would like to apologise if you note that any of my elves have names that you have seen in previous fics. I have read so many, that I’m not sure I have come up with unique names or not. If so, please let me know so I can credit to the correct person - I have not intended to plagiarise! 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

The seven Galadhrim decided to take a short break to take water and break some lembas, in the hopes that it would mean they could continue to travel through the forest with no further breaks. As the warriors removed their packs from their horses, they all sat on broken logs and branches from the trees of the Greenwood within a small clearing. They had only just entered the forest really - an hour’s ride or so - but the soldiers could not help but feel the strange atmosphere of danger creep over their senses.

One warrior in particular felt unease at being within the Greenwood, but especially when they had easily picked off a random orc wandering through their path. Haldir was young in years, and this was his first trip abroad from Lothlorien. His Lord and Lady had sent Marchwarden Aranduir to deliver a message to King Thranduil and his Queen, inviting them to the Feast of Midsummer that the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien always celebrated. Haldir had been surprised to be picked for such a trip, but Aranduir had insisted that it would be beneficial for Haldir to practise his Common Tongue should the moment arise. The young recruit could only think that the reason he felt so uneasy was that, had this been Lothlorien, the group would not have been able to enter so far into the forest without encountering a guard of some description.

“How are you getting along there, Haldir?” Aranduir asked, taking a seat beside Haldir on a broken branch. 

There was no denying that Haldir felt uncomfortable beside Aranduir. Given his position of power, the Marchwarden gave off a noble vibe. He looked almost regal with his blood-red uniform, which was standard for the Marchwarden of Lorien, his back straight and his dark grey hair braided to denote his status. The hazel eyes of the Marchwarden stared expectantly at his youngest recruit.

“I’m well,” Haldir informed him softly, chewing on a piece of lembas.

“Something troubles you though, no?”

Haldir sighed. Clearly he was not so good at hiding his emotions yet.

“I feel uncomfortable within this forest,” he admitted, his bright silver hair falling in his face in an attempt to hide his shame at feeling this way. “I apologise. I will feel better once we have reached King Thranduil’s palace.”

Aranduir nodded, attempting to catch Haldir’s eye. “Haldir,” he admonished, to which the recruit did reluctantly turn to look at him, “what did I tell you on your first watch in Lothlorien?”

At first, Haldir panicked that he could not recall a thing that Aranduir had told him during his first watch. He spent the whole time on edge, awaiting an orc raid and a resulting skirmish. Naturally, it had not happened and he had worried for nothing. Haldir noted in his silence that the other five Galadhrim had begun to pay attention to the conversation between himself and the Marchwarden. He felt his cheeks colour slightly, before his panic faded and he remembered a small piece of advice that Haldir had been given.

“That as a Galadhrim soldier, I must always trust my instincts?”

“Exactly,” The Marchwarden confirmed. “Tell me, what your instincts are saying?”

Haldir frowned, thinking how best to put it without sounding offensive to the rest of the troop. He did not wish to seem like the cocky new recruit, out on his first foreign excursion, believing himself to be better than a well-travelled warrior with many adventures under his belt. Yet still… Haldir could not deny the overwhelming sense of unease that he was feeling…

“Why did the stray orc not concern you?” Haldir spoke, more to everyone than just Aranduir. “Don’t they normally travel in packs? And, why have we not encountered the Greenwood guard yet? We have been travelling inside the forest for a fair time, and still we have encountered no one.”

From across the clearing, a few of the Galadhrim shrugged lightly, unconcerned that they had not been met with Greenwood warriors. One elf, Daelchon, was repacking the sack on his horse whilst gazing curiously at Haldir. 

He stopped what he was doing, re-braiding his dark brown hair in a fluid motion before lazily replying: “Perhaps the rest of his pack has already been dealt with?” He looked to the Marchwarden next. “I see no reason for it cause alarm. It appeared the orc was fleeing.”

“As for the Greenwood guards,” Aranduir added, “I am sure they will join us soon.”

Regardless of the responses he had received from both Daelchon and Aranduir, nothing could persuade Haldir that seeing the lone orc wasn’t somewhat worrying. In Haldir’s mind, the orc had not looked as though he was fleeing at all. If anything, Haldir would say that the orc appeared to be positively strolling through the Greenwood. It was only at the moment he crossed into the path of the elves that he began to flee. 

However, the young recruit did not have much time to dwell on it, as soon the Marchwarden was hurrying them to pack away and mount their horses for another round of riding north. Haldir hoped they would happen across the Greenwood warriors soon. Hopefully that would dispel his growing gut feeling that something was amiss with the orc. Eager to move on, Haldir mounted his dapple grey mare, patting her affectionately on the neck as they rode on.

For roughly an hour, the seven Galadhrim carried on with their travels. They talked casually amongst themselves about all sorts of different things, from women to the Greenwood and it’s King, and all the way back again. As an inexperienced recruit, Haldir did not add much to the conversation. He listened in from time to time, however spent most of the journey absorbing how different it was in the Greenwood to the golden wood of Lothlorien.

The trees were a deep, rich brown and their trunks were gnarled and contorted in comparison to the perfect grey of his homeland mallorn trees. The leaves were a variety of shades of green - from a vibrant lime to a darker shade of green that was almost black in colour. He was used to leaves of yellow-gold. It seemed that Haldir was the only soldier who was remotely interested in the way the moss climbed the trunks of the trees, and how some dead brown leaves rolled across the forest floor. A fallen mallorn was not common in Lothlorien, but everywhere Haldir looked he could spy fallen branches and trees all throughout the forest. 

Suddenly, in the middle of his daydreaming, a strange feeling picked at the edges of Haldir’s uneasiness. He pulled his horse to a stop, but his group continued onwards at a slow pace, casually traversing the well-worn path to the King’s palace. Haldir did not like the feeling. It felt as though it lingered on the corner of his periphery - always present and yet always just out of sight. He willed his senses to detect something - anything - that could give him a clue to what he was feeling.

“Penneth!” A voice up ahead called to him. “Keep up or you shall lose us!”

The noise of the shout had caused a movement to Haldir’s right, and he caught sight of an orc just in time as it sprung from the bushes into the path between himself and the Galadhrim ahead. In seconds, Haldir’s mare had reared, throwing him off balance and onto the floor. He rolled to the side out of her way, drawing his heavy longsword from the sheath on his left hip, regaining his stance to fight the orc. However, as his horse fled towards the Galadhrim, he could see that the orc was already dead from an arrow in his back. 

Daelchon caught the reigns of his mare easily, and Haldir felt embarrassed to have fallen from her so easily. Quickly, he walked towards the group of Galadhrim, ignoring the crippling weight of embarrassment as he rejoined them. They must have thought him a liability.

“Keep up, Haldir,” Aranduir scolded, as Daelchon handed the reigns back to the young recruit. “Next time, when you see the orc, just fire an arrow.”

Despite himself, Haldir felt the need to protest against his superior. Next time fire an arrow? They had all passed the orc as though it was not there! Only he had noticed that something was amiss! Two lone orcs could not be a coincidence. Something must be happening, he concluded, though he would not say as much to the Galadhrim - many of whom were looking to him as though he was a burden. 

As he mounted and the group carried on with their journey, they soon came across a few fallen trees blocking their pathway. Daelchon sighed, scouting out to see whether it was possible to cross at a gallop and jump on horseback. Haldir hung back with the others, reluctant to make any suggestions to the Marchwarden following his telling-off for not keeping up. Soon, Daelchon returned shaking his head in defeat.

“It is no use,” he sighed again, “there is no way we would be able to complete the jumps. The terrain underneath is too uneven - the last thing we need is a horse with a broken leg.”

Aranduir rolled his eyes in frustration. “Just where are these Greenwood folk? Why have we yet to come across them?” 

“Fine way to treat visitors,” another elf, Yurion, grumbled. “As if orc encounters were not enough, we are now suffering an impassable route on the main road to the palace.”

“Perhaps that is their intention,” Haldir mumbled, fed up with the whole charade. He wished to be home in Lothlorien. These foreign ventures were not for him.

“Why would that be their intention?” Yurion scowled, the tone a little harsh and not lost on Haldir.

“Well,” Haldir snapped back, unable to contain himself, “if I did not have enough warriors to patrol to the outmost borders of this region, and knowing that there were orcs that roamed my forest quite freely, I would attempt to make the route to the palace that held my Lord as impassable as possible to dissuade orcs from gaining easy access to my home.”

The rest of the Galadhrim said nothing, just stared for a while at their young recruit. Believing that they had not understood him, Haldir continued:

“Those who were visitors to my realm would most likely be elves, and therefore comfortable and at ease amongst trees. They would also be sensible and skilled enough to know which way was north to my palace - no matter how distracted they would become by a blocked route. The orcs, on the other hand, would possibly struggle to relocate themselves once amongst the trees, thus dissuading them from finding their way to the palace.”

Little did Haldir know, the route to the palace was solely impassible due to a recent thunderstorm that had struck the copse of trees and rendered them fallen across the pathway. Nevertheless, his point was still tactical and plausible, both of which silently impressed the Marchwarden. Despite Haldir’s slip up with the orc, and his foolishness to fall behind so easily, Aranduir knew there was a reason he had chosen the young recruit to come with them. He ruffled the silver hair of Haldir affectionately. 

“That’s more like it, soldier,” the Marchwarden grinned slightly. Haldir worked to straighten his hair again. “Come, we must go into the trees. Haldir is right - we know the way north.”

Silently, the troop followed their commander with no objections. Even though Haldir had mentioned that elves felt at ease beneath the trees, he could not shake the sense that something was off. For a while they headed due East, and for the whole time, Haldir felt as though he was being watched. At first, he had thought that perhaps the elves of the Greenwood had finally joined them, however as the day passed it began to feel far more ominous. 

Haldir and Yurion were at the back of the group; the Marchwarden and Daelchon at the front. He tried to keep his mind clear, prepared, ready for anything, just as he had always been taught. Yet no matter how much he felt it deep within his core, there was no apparent threat. Up ahead, Haldir could see the openings of a clearing, and he was partly hoping that they would be able to stop again for a drink and to break bread. 

However, when the troop reached the clearing, it was evident that something was wrong. Haldir, from his position at the back, could not see anything, but the commotion up ahead suggested it was quite a sight. The rest of the Galadhrim were dismounting, their voices a jumble of discussion so that Haldir could not make out what they were saying. In curiosity, Haldir dismounted himself, wandering towards whatever was causing such a disruption.

When he reached the clearing, the only thing Haldir could compare it with was the term ‘bloodbath,’ which he had heard often in the field, but never seen in person. Around five elves lay in the clearing, in a such a way that they looked as though they were rag-dolls carelessly scattered and left in place by a child. They were dressed in the forest green uniforms of the guards of the Greenwood, a symbol of a leaf in silver embroidered on their tunics. Haldir was horrified to note that two were women. 

The Galadhrim were bending to inspect the Greenwood elves to see whether any were alive. To Haldir, it was horrifying. He had never seen an elf who had passed to the Halls. Death had seemed like such a strange, unexplainable concept. Yet now… now it seemed bloody, blank-faced and final. No sign of life was in the eyes of the elf closest to them. She stared unseeing at the canopy of leaves above her, tears upon her fair face, her hair tangled in a red bloody mess from the wound upon her scalp. Haldir could vaguely hear the Marchwarden commanding his troops to do something, but his eyes would not remove themselves from the elleth. She was somebody’s love, somebody’s sister, daughter, mother perhaps…

“Haldir, I need you to go with Daelchon to scout the surrounding area for signs of any further orcs,” Aranduir commanded, eventually cutting through Haldir’s grief at the sight of the slain elves. “Keep it together, soldier. There is nothing that can help them now.”

Yet, despite what his Marchwarden said, Haldir could not understand how he so calmly dismissed the lives of the elves around the clearing. How did Aranduir not grieve as he did? Was he so desensitised to such a scene that he no longer felt anything at the sight?

Deciding it was best to keep his mind from dwelling over the impassivity of his superior, Haldir followed Daelchon into the surrounding bush, noting that there were signs the fight had only begun in the clearing. They found another elf not too far from the clearing, a crude black orc arrow sticking out from his chest. Haldir went to remove it, his hand was stopped by Daelchon.

“Touch nothing - it may still be poisoned.”

Nodding, Haldir left the arrow in the elf, but he longed to remove it so that the elf could look as though he had simply fallen asleep in the forest. His tunic was covered in the dark burgundy of his own blood, and Haldir’s eyes could not look away from it, as though they were stuck in one place. Daelchon was off elsewhere, and the feeling of not wanting to be alone, was the only factor that got Haldir moving again. He joined Daelchon, wandering a few paces behind him, when a something caught his eye.

It was so fast that Haldir was uncertain if he had seen anything at all, but he kept his eyes fixed in the same position, almost daring the movement to happen again. To his surprise, it did happen not too long afterwards, and Haldir was shocked at what he saw. From behind a nearby tree, a little elfling with bright blonde hair and light blue eyes glanced around the side of trunk, spying on Haldir and his warrior troop. For a moment, Haldir was not sure what to do. 

“Little elfing?” He asked quietly, hearing a tiny squeak in response from behind the tree. “I won’t hurt you, little one. I am an elf too.”

Seemingly emboldened by hearing a language he understood, the elfling peaked again from behind the trunk. Haldir could see that he was evidently terrified, his rounded cheeks held the obvious signs of salty tear-tracks. He found it reassuring that the elfling did not immediately hide again, but continued to stare at Haldir in bewilderment.

“Penneth?”

The elfling dashed off, and Haldir rushed after him, knowing that the elfling was not safe amongst the trees. He rounded a few more trees, eventually finding the elfling bent over the dead body of an elleth, with hair as fair as that upon the child’s head. Haldir’s heart clenched tightly in his chest. This must be the child’s mother. He felt his stomach sink. He was a grown elf, and he had struggled to understand what he had seen in the clearing - he could not imagine how confusing this must have been for one as young as the elfing.

“Nana?” He heard the child saying, shaking the shoulder of the elleth sprawled upon the floor. “Nana, there are elves here to help us. Wake up!”

No matter how hard the elfling shook his mother, she did not stir from her supposed sleep. Haldir approached slowly, so as not to startle the child. His heart continued to clench in hot, uncomfortable spasms. He willed himself not to cry. The child was probably no older than his younger brother, Rumil. The little one turned towards him, his hearing was advanced and he had known that the soldier in grey had followed him. His small hand went to shake his mother again, but Haldir was crouching beside him now, and could see that the elfling was crying.

“She won’t wake up,” he noted, his voice as tiny as he was. 

“No,” Haldir mumbled quietly.

Upon further inspection, Haldir could see that the little elfling was covered in the foul stench of black orc blood. He had splatters of orc and elvish blood upon his fair face, clear indicators that he had surely witnessed whatever had happened in the clearing. The elfling looked back at Haldir blankly, his bright blue eyes shining with unshed tears. Haldir sighed, offering a hand in comfort to the little one.

“Nana isn’t coming back, is she?”

Haldir shook his head. “I am afraid not, little one. I think she has gone to the Halls of Mandos.”

Without much warning, the elfling wound his small arms around Haldir’s neck, burying his face in the join between the Galadhrim’s neck and shoulder. Softly, Haldir stroked his hair as sobs began to shake the whole elfling’s being. Rather suddenly, Haldir felt a strange pull at his heart that he had never felt before. He was overwhelmed with a feeling of fierce protectiveness, as though he would die before anyone else were to hurt the child in his arms. 

“I-I want my Ada,” a muffled voice came from his shoulder. 

Haldir nodded, lifting the child easily in his arms. “Then we shall go and find him.”

Swiftly he carried the child back towards Daelchon, who raised his eyebrows in shock at what Haldir carried in his arms. Haldir quietly informed him that his mother was deceased not too far away, hoping that his pigeon use of the Common Tongue was not understood by the elfling. Daelchon nodded and headed towards the body, as Haldir approached the clearing. He could see that all the other elves had been successfully laid to rest. The Marchwarden turned at Haldir’s approach, his jaw dropping in shock akin to Daelchon’s.

“An elfling?” He questioned, turning the whole attention of the Galadhrim upon Haldir. He felt the little arms squeeze tighter around his neck at the sound of new voices.

“Be at peace, little one,” he mumbled to the child, “they are with me.”

Aranduir stroked the child’s head in an attempt to soothe him, but Haldir found himself protectively moving the elfling away.

“Where did you find him?” Aranduir asked.

Haldir went to explain the whole circumstance, when Daelchon appeared into the clearing, carrying the body of the elfling’s mother. He felt somewhat annoyed that Daelchon had not had the decency to bury the elleth and lay her to rest like the others. How did he expect the elfling to feel, seeing his mother carted around in such a way? The pale, disturbed face of Daelchon made the young recruit think something further was wrong.

“It is the Queen,” he whispered in the Common Tongue. “We cannot leave her here - King Thranduil will want to see her.”

For another time that afternoon, Haldir felt an uneasy constriction in his chest. If that elleth were the Queen, then the child in his arms was the Prince of the Greenwood - Legolas, the Greenleaf. In an unconscious response, Haldir hugged the Prince a little tighter to him. The gesture was returned by the elfling.

“We must make haste to the palace,” Aranduir ordered in the Common Tongue. “Haldir, you will keep the Princeling with you. Yurion and another - I care not whom - possibly you, Galfin, as your horses are similar height - carry the Queen between you. I pray to the Valar that we meet the Greenwood guard soon.”

With little dallying, the Galadhrim followed their orders at once. Haldir mounted his dapple grey mare, clutching Legolas close to him and wrapping him in his charcoal-coloured Galadhrim cloak. The elfling shifted slightly, his blue eyes staring up curiously at Haldir as they rode. Occasionally Legolas would sneak a few little looks, then would resume his position hugging the Galadhrim soldier close, hidden beneath the cloak. Haldir hoped that he felt safe with them. He tried his best to silently communicate this to the elfling.

Their route to the palace seemed slow, but eventually a Greenwood clad warrior seemed to drop from the trees above them into their path. He drew back an arrow in his bow, pointing it directly at Aranduir.

“State your business,” the warrior spoke, trying to keep his eye on the whole party. 

Aranduir dismounted from his horse, confidently striding towards the wood-elf and pushing his bow to the side. Haldir could not hear exactly what was said in the hushed conversation, but the warrior dropped his bow, his hands flying up to his auburn-haired head in disbelief. 

“Show me,” Haldir heard him say. Aranduir nodded, escorting the wood-elf to the makeshift sling between the two horses of Yurion and Galfin that carried the body of the Queen. Once he saw the elleth within, he let out a strangled cry. As though drawn to the anguish, more wood-elves began to emerge from the forest, each looking horrified at the sight of the Galadhrim and their deceased Queen.

“What of the Prince?” One of them asked - another woman in a guard’s uniform, Haldir noted. He had heard of the differences between the elven realms, but was surprised to find that one of them allowed women to fight in their army, for that was not allowed in Lothlorien. He had thought the two elleths that were found in the clearing were dressed as guards in a disguise to keep them safe. 

“I have him here,” Haldir interrupted, as all heads in the gathered group turned to look at him. He slowly pulled back his cloak to show the Prince unharmed but snoozing peacefully snuggled in Haldir’s embrace.

“You must go ahead and warn the King of what is coming,” Aranduir informed them, and they seemed to take his direction as the Galadhrim did, with no objections.

In a commotion that was like no other, the Galadhrim found themselves escorted to the palace of King Thranduil. This was not the way that Haldir had imagined arriving at the palace. He wished to arrive with happier news of the Midsummer festival that Thranduil and his family were invited to. He had not wished to arrive with the horrendous news that the kingdom had lost their Queen.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity to Haldir, they cantered into the courtyard of the King’s palace. He stood, a lone figure by the grand entrance, attempting to school his features into an expressionless mask, but failing to do so. Haldir observed that the child beneath his cloak was the mirror image of his father, although his features were softer and more rounded from childhood, Thranduil possessed the same blonde hair and blue eyes. 

Before the Galadhrim had a chance to respectfully unload the body of the Queen, Thranduil had stalked forward with an impressive speed, pulling back the cloak that hid his wife’s face. At first, Haldir thought he would show no reaction, but he stared unseeing at his Queen, his eyes swam with tears. It was evident to Haldir that he was watching the King’s heart break in the middle of the courtyard.

“Legolas?” Thranduil asked Aranduir, his voice thick with emotion. “Did you find my son?”

Carefully, Haldir dismounted, shifting the child within his grasp. Through the bond that only a parent and child could share, Thranduil turned instinctively towards Haldir. He reached for the elfling, checking the precious cargo in his arms, cuddling him close and humming a soft lullaby. The feeling that Haldir had experienced of wanting to protect the elfling had not diminished, but it lessened somewhat knowing that his father was with him.

“Little leaf,” Thranduil whispered, clutching his elfling tight to him. “I am so sorry.”

Legolas shifted in his father’s grasp, reaching to wipe a fallen tear from his father’s face. The sight made a lump appear in Haldir’s throat.

“It is ok, Ada,” the Prince spoke, planting a kiss on his father’s cheek for good measure. “I knew Haldir would find you.”

Thranduil smiled, though the joy did not reach his eyes. He turned to Haldir, as did Legolas - the pair of them were identical in outward appearance. Not wishing to be rude to the King, Haldir bowed as an automatic response.

“Thank you, Haldir,” Thranduil said, grasping at the Galadhrim’s shoulder in silent gratitude. “You have returned the two things most precious to me.”

Haldir did not say anything further. He would never forgot the following days. King Thranduil had treated them with the utmost respect, but it was clear that the kingdom was grieving heavily. After a few days, the Queen was properly laid to rest. The Prince attended, but it was clear he did not understand. He begged loudly for his mother, repeatedly asking for his father to wake her up. It took all Haldir had to stop himself from breaking completely. He wished to wrap the elfling in his arms and protect him from all the hurts in the world.

After Aranduir delivered his invitation, it was evident that the King would not take up the Lord and Lady on their offer. There was a heavy, uncomfortable silence that blanketed the whole realm. Haldir hated to admit it, but by the time it came for them to leave, he was looking forward to the solace of Lothlorien. 

What he could not stand, however, was leaving that bright little elfling in the midst of a grieving household, with a forest that allowed for roaming orcs and unprotected borders.


	2. Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have re-written this so many times and I’m still not 100% sure I like it! Let me know what you think.

Haldir could see him from where he stood. He was perched on the edge of the white stone wall that overlooked the city of Minas Tirith, his face turned towards the stars. He appeared to glow in the moonlight, and the pale silvery-blue tunic he wore only seemed to make him glimmer all the more. Haldir had seen him look every part the Prince on numerous occasions, but this time he looked so incredibly ethereal and other-worldly that the Marchwarden began to silently believe that he had never seen Legolas look so beautiful before.

Haldir remained hovering by the front entrance to the grand palace, a glass of red wine in his hand. The celebrations for Arwen and Aragorn’s bonding were in full swing inside, and overwhelmed at the amount of frivolity, the Marchwarden had thought to take a moment outside in the refreshing nighttime air. However, he had not expected that Legolas would have been thinking much the same, only he was comfortable and gazing at the stars, and Haldir felt awkward and out of place by the doors.

He could have approached - in fact he probably should have, considering that he was lurking strangely by the doorway to the palace. But something held Haldir back. The same thing that held him back a few months earlier at Helms Deep. The very same thing that had stopped him every single time he felt like it was time to reveal how he felt because he could not live with it any longer. Yet, Haldir was too sensible to rely solely upon his emotions. He had not attained the position of Marchwarden without putting aside his feelings from time to time.

So there he stood, on a metaphorical precipice, attempting to make the pained decision of whether to approach Legolas or not. Haldir found it wildly ironic that he could face down an army of orcs, Uruk-Hai, goblins… and yet he could not muster the courage to walk towards the beautiful elf that sat peacefully overlooking Minas Tirith. Perhaps the wood-elf wanted to be alone. After all, he had spent the evening entertaining everyone along with Aragorn, partaking in the dancing, feasting and drinking. Maybe he wanted to be by himself for a moment. It would be rude to interrupt.

Haldir downed the rest of his wine, and went to head back to the celebrations. However, just as he was about to leave, he noticed that Legolas had turned his attention away from the stars and was now looking at him. The Marchwarden faltered, but he managed to regain some composure at being caught spying.

“Evening, Marchwarden,” Legolas’ voice carried across the distance between them. It was confident. Formal.

At that moment, Haldir was torn between wanting to leave and wanting to stay. Yet, he had thought that Legolas not noticing him was a sign from the Valar that he should not reveal his true feelings. Now he found that he was not so sure what to do. How much could a conversation hurt? There was no obligation to confess anything. With that thought behind him, the Marchwarden approached Legolas, who watched silently as he walked towards him.

As he got closer, Haldir could see that Legolas’ circlet had been removed from his intricately braided hair and placed on the wall beside him. There was an empty wine glass on the floor, stored in shadow behind the wall. Haldir stood to the left of him, but he did not dare take a seat beside the Prince without being asked first. Friend or not, there were still social norms to abide by. At the end of the day, Legolas still outranked him.

“Good evening, Prince Legolas,” Haldir replied, as formally as he could. “Forgive my intrusion, I did not realise you were out here or I would have gone somewhere else.”

Legolas smiled at him, his face softened by the moonlight. “Actually I think some company would be nice,” he replied gently, removing the circlet to the other side of him so that Haldir could sit down.

At the gesture, Haldir nodded slightly and swung his legs over the wall, his heart hammering uncomfortably in his chest. If someone were to come and see them now, besides the silver glow of his hair and the embroidery of his tunic, the navy of the Marchwarden’s formalwear would blend seamlessly with the night’s sky. There was a sheer drop on the other side of the white low wall, but it was so high that it appeared almost unreal to them both. He could see the twinkling lights of those celebrating on the levels below, the sounds of their revelling could be heard occasionally as it was carried on the wind.

“It is good to see you again,” Legolas broke their comfortable silence, gazing again towards the stars. “I did not know that you would be coming with Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn.”

“It appeared that no amount of protest could not persuade them otherwise,” Haldir told Legolas, grinning fondly at the memory. “They felt that the borders of Lothlorien could be protected well enough without me. I believe Lord Celeborn referred to this venture as a ‘much needed and deserved vacation.’”

At that Legolas laughed lightly. “How is your vacation treating you?”

“It is overwhelmingly similar to my ordinary day job: conversing with nobles, attending bonding ceremonies of newly crowned Kings, sitting in the moonlight with wood-elf Princes…” Haldir joked, as he felt Legolas’ gaze turn towards him. “Much the same.”

Admittedly, Haldir had not been best pleased at being asked to accompany his Lord and Lady to Gondor, but it was not due to his hatred of formal events or any of the things he had listed to Legolas. In truth, the reason he had been so averse to leaving Lothlorien was the sudden realisation that some elves would not be there when he returned. Many had made their intentions rather clear that they planned to leave for Valinor, and it hurt Haldir deeply. He could imagine no other life than his one in Lothlorien as Marchwarden. Now, his Lady’s ring held no power. The evil in Arda and the threat of Sauron to their land had disappeared. Would there be nobody left to protect soon, and honestly, would there be any pressing threat to protect them from? 

“So much has changed,” Haldir sighed.

“I know,” Legolas whispered softly. “I feel it too.”

Surprised, Haldir glanced at Legolas. His blue eyes were shining, and it was not altogether due to the starlight. For a moment he picked up his silver circlet, delicately twiddling it between his hands. He did not further how or what he felt, though Haldir was tempted to push him for an answer. Yet, simultaneously, it occurred to Haldir that those thoughts were private to Legolas and he respected his right to keep them so. He would not push for anything from the Prince.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to -“

“It feels like so little time has passed,” Legolas answered him, cutting over his apology at making the Prince sad. “I still feel like it was only yesterday that I was an elfling, and yet my mother dying was so long ago. Our friendship seems like it began in a different age, and now… I do not know how we fit in to the Age of Men.”

Friendship was the only word that Haldir fixated on. It was always a friendship, never anything more. Although, the Marchwarden felt differently. It had taken him some time to come to terms with the fact he was in love with Legolas, and not a lovely, respectable Silvan elleth of Lorien. When he had realised, he had not told a soul. After all, no real love could ever bloom between them. There were many justifiable reasons that Haldir reminded himself of every time he met with the Prince. 

First, Legolas was a Prince and Haldir only a Marchwarden. He highly doubted that King Thranduil would ever allow for his son to marry someone like Haldir. This was not altogether because Haldir was a Marchwarden either. With a royal lineage came the demand for its continuation, and neither Haldir or Legolas could bear children. No heirs to the throne meant an improper match. 

And even, Haldir told himself often, if King Thranduil did accept his offer of marriage to Legolas, the relationship itself would suffer as it was highly impractical. Legolas could not just leave his role as the Prince of Mirkwood, and undoubtedly his people would want to see him flourishing in their kingdom. Equally, Haldir could not simply abandon his role as Marchwarden after he had spent so long earning respect and his position. Sensible Haldir would always remind him of all of the reasons it could never work, and at the same time all of the reasons he could not reveal how he felt.

Friendship was all it was, and all it could ever be.

“Lady Galadriel told me that I would not feel at home in Mirkwood - or any forest for that matter - once I heard the cry of seagulls,” Legolas sighed, his eyes now falling to the West. “She said I could no longer find peace there, and that my sea-longing would begin.”

At that, Haldir’s heart began to beat rapidly in a sort of panic. He watched Legolas closely, though the Prince did not look in his direction. This was the part of the new age that scared Haldir. It was as though everything he knew was slipping out of his grasp. Things were changing too rapidly. Elves were leaving so frequently. Of course he had known that at some point the sea may call him home, but he remained tied to Arda. He did not want to leave. However, despite his feelings towards remaining this side of the sea, he could not control others who longed for Valinor. 

“But you have no cause to fret right now,” Haldir assured him. “You may not hear that call for years yet.”

The silence between them gave Haldir the answer he did not want to hear before Legolas had even said anything.

“I have heard the gulls, Haldir,” he murmured, ceasing his fiddling with his circlet. “I heard them in Pelargir.”

Haldir’s stomach dropped. He had known that answer was coming, but it did not make it any easier to bear. What if Legolas now chose to sail? What if now there was peace, something that Haldir had been waiting on for centuries, everything he loved was ripped away from him? He had convinced himself that the only time to tell Legolas how he felt would be at a time of peace, when perhaps the constraints of their titles were less pressing. Haldir had not accounted for the fact that Legolas may choose to leave.

Throughout the years since Haldir had first met the elfling on his first trip to Mirkwood, much had changed in that time. It was not unknown amongst the elves of Lothlorien that their Marchwarden placed the love of their land above all else. He had received many admirers - particularly since he rose to the well-respected position of Marchwarden - but the elves had learnt that it would take more than a pretty face and a shining personality to turn the head of Haldir. Often they would joke that he was married to his job, and that there was only room for one in his heart and her name was Lothlorien. 

Yet now, Haldir felt a strange pang of regret. All those years he had placed his occupation at the forefront of his life, believing that eventually there would come a time when he would allow for the distraction of love. There had only been one who had stolen his heart completely. However, here they sat in the moonlight overlooking the joyful celebrations of Gondor, at the end of an age, and Haldir felt as though he had wasted all of that time. To elves, time was a concept that they rarely thought about. Now, Haldir thought that this must be what it felt like to be human - as though the days had passed by so fast and there was not enough time left. 

“What will you do now?” Haldir whispered, the sadness noticeable in his voice.

“I do not know for certain, though I have a few ideas,” Legolas replied, his voice had changed slightly now he was speaking of his plans. “I think I would like to stay at least until no member of the Fellowship remains in Arda - I feel they help to tie me here. And of course… Gimli and I have spoken on many occasions of travelling. I would quite like to see the Glittering Caves and explore Fangorn in more depth… and perhaps I will stop by Mirkwood to visit my father.”

This news surprised Haldir a little, and he could not help but let out a small laugh. The pair looked at one another: Haldir, a little incredulous at Legolas’ plans for the future, and Legolas, with a shy smile at being laughed at.

“What is so funny?”

Haldir allowed himself to smile endearingly at Legolas. “I am sorry - I just had a wonderful image of yourself taking the dwarf to visit your father. I could imagine his face is all…”

At that, Legolas did allow a little chuckle. His face was radiant when he smiled. It seemed to warm Haldir to the bones. He had always known that Legolas was charming, but that very glorious smile had taken a hold of his heart rather quickly as he had grown.

“What will you do now, Haldir?” The Prince asked, his brow furrowed slightly, the smile gone from his face. “Will you remain in Lothlorien?”

Haldir shrugged. “I am unsure. Already the forest is transforming - she is not the woods I have always known. Without the power of my Lady’s ring, the seasons are changing and the forest does not feel as it once did. Elves are leaving.” He sighed, a weight upon his chest. “I suppose I do not know how I fit into this Age of Men either, but I know I am not ready to sail yet.”

Legolas nodded, the moonlight reflecting from his white-blonde hair. “I understand. Your brothers hold you here - you still have ties to this land that make it hard to leave.”

This was the moment, Haldir thought. He should speak now - confess how he felt! Although Haldir loved his brothers with all his being, it was not Rumil or Orophin that kept him tied to this world. Should he say something? Did he dare ruin their friendship? He could not imagine a life where he did not council Legolas with something, where he there was an awkwardness between them. Was this his time, after centuries of remaining silent, to finally tell Legolas how much he loved him? He did not feel that Legolas would return his feelings. 

His hands were sweating uncomfortably, and his throat felt unusually dry. He had been given a similar opportunity at Helms Deep, but he had kept his silence as he had not wanted to cause a distraction for Legolas throughout the rest of their quest. Riding an army of elves to his aid should have been a gesture that proved how he felt and his overwhelming desire to continually protect Legolas. Yet, it appeared that the Prince was oblivious. After all of the fighting had ended, Haldir had gone to tell him, had spent the morning plucking up his courage over breakfast… but then, he saw Legolas, alone, watching the dwarf, preoccupied by his duty to the Fellowship and Haldir had faltered. Instead, he had remained silent about his feelings, wishing Legolas luck and nothing more.

But Haldir had wanted to tell him so badly. He wanted to beg him not to die, to do his best to return to Mirkwood and not for the sake of his father. He wanted to say all those things he had wanted to say since he had first realised that he was in love with Legolas, yet there was never the right moment. They passed by too quickly. If he did not act upon this one, it could be years before Haldir may get another chance.

“I…” Haldir coughed in attempt to clear the lump in his throat. “I have many things that tie me to Arda…”

Nervously, Haldir brought his attention back to Legolas’ face, but it seemed that his hint had not been completely understood by the Prince. All Legolas did was nod in agreement.

“Well, I have had some recent discussions with Estel that I think -“

Legolas stopped. He seemed as though he was struggling to find the correct words. He fiddled uncomfortably in his lap again with his beautiful circlet. Strangely, he took another deep breath and continued.

“I have spoken with Estel,” he began again, his voice a little more steady this time around. “We were thinking that it may be a good idea to begin a small Elven colony in the forests of Ithilien - you know, to rebuild and regrow the trees to their full strength.”

Confused as to what this had to do with him, Haldir kept his eyes firmly on the Prince.

“I…” Legolas sighed - another deep breath. “Well, just - if you feel like Lothlorien does not anchor you well enough to this side of the sea, it… well, I would be glad to have you there with me.”

It may have been dark, but the Marchwarden was certain he could see a soft blush had settled itself across Legolas’ cheeks. Admittedly, Haldir was rather flushed himself. Although the compliment was sweet, Haldir tried to remind himself that Legolas probably spoke from a place of friendship - as he had mentioned earlier. It was not likely from a position of love, unless of course it was platonic. Haldir grinned at the Prince through the moonlight. If he accepted then he could be there to protect the Prince at all costs, even if it meant they could not be together. He would take the compromise.

“If that would make you happy, then it would be an honour,” Haldir replied, and he thought that the Prince’s blush appeared to deepen.

“It would make me happy,” Legolas murmured, the sound almost lost to the wind.

“Then when my Lord and Lady have decided to sail, and you have finished your travels with the dwarf, we shall see to it.”

The Prince nodded again, and turned his attention back to the glimmering stars above them. Haldir, who enjoyed starlight above all other lights, drank in the picture of Legolas doused in it. Eventually though, he felt he could not linger his gaze on Legolas for too long without appearing strange, Haldir turned his attention to them too. They seemed particularly bright this evening, as though perhaps the Age of Men was not as daunting as Haldir had first thought. Maybe the change would be a good thing. There was plenty of time to confess how he felt to Legolas. He could always do it in Ithilien.

To his surprise, a moment later the hand of the Prince slipped into his own. Briefly, Haldir pulled his gaze away from the stars to their interlocked hands. It felt so natural. They fit together so perfectly. Did Legolas feel it too?

“I do not know what the Age of Men will bring for us, Haldir,” Legolas whispered, his blue eyes ablaze. “But I feel better knowing that we will face it together.”


End file.
